Authors: J.C. Murtagh
“Where do you want me to take you?”
“Anywhere but here. Please!”
“You don’t deserve to be saved after what you have done. I gave you enough,” he said, his eyes cold.
She lowered her head into her hands and sobbed.
“Ready the carriage. I am through!” he yelled to his men.
“Baron Blacwin, please!” she called, reaching for him in a last attempt. “Don’t you see why I am bruised? Why I ran?”
He glared down at her. “All I see is a liar who made a fool of me. Good day.”
“She left a note!” Judith yelled. “She said that if she had to marry you then she would rather give herself to God than to be your baroness. She drank poison!”
His jaw tightened. “Quiet yourself!”
“No! You must believe me. You must!”
He took her by the shoulders and straightened her. “Stop this. You’re making a fool of both of us.”
“I don’t care…I love you!” she wept.
A look of disgust crossed his face. “You love no one but yourself.”
Sobs wracked her body. “Cal, please.”
“Do not use my name, peasant.” he let her drop to her knees before him.
Her lower lip trembled as she grabbed his knee, and looked up at him with pleading eyes.
“I am still the the woman you knew!”
“The woman I knew never existed!” He pulled away from her grip and stepped into his carriage.
She watched helplessly as he took one last look at her through the small window before drawing the curtain closed.
The reins snapped, the carriage lurched forward and rolled down the muddy road.
Judith pressed her forehead into her knees and wept.
Chapter 5
Two Months Later
Fall always arrived early in Caldwell, and the harvest kept the Timbolt family busy.
Judith maintained the house as she always did, busying herself with making jams, ciders, and non-perishables for the winter.
On an unpleasantly cold afternoon, Judith sat at the dining table with a basket of apples. She carefully peeled the mottled red skin from each one, readying them to dry for cider.
Samuel’s soft laughter carried in through the open doorway as he played in a dry leaf pile.
A raucous cough broke the calm in the room. Her mother-in-law barreled through the front door with a basket of eggs, covering her mouth with her hand.
“Two of our laying hens froze to death last night and our milk pail has a hole. Finish those apples,” she told Judith between deep breaths, “and go into town, I hear Henry had an overstock of chicks last spring.”
Henry was the hunchback chicken farmer and town cooper.
“I’ll need the cart for all of that. Is Garreth finished shoeing the horse?” Judith asked.
“He should be,” Gertrude said, setting the basket of eggs down on the table and waddling back outside.
Judith finished peeling the apples and put them aside. She glanced over near the hearth where Garreth’s hound lay asleep. She succumbed to a yawn wishing she could curl up beside him and sleep the rest of the day away.
She tied her woolen cloak around her shoulders and stepped out into the brisk autumn air to see Garreth waiting for her with the horse and cart.
“I won’t be gone long,” she said as he helped her into the seat.
“You’re sure you don’t want me to come along?”
“I will be fine.”
He reached out and gave abdomen a soft rub. “I cannot believe we will have another mouth to feed next spring.”
“If I carry well through the winter.”
He took her hand. “Maybe we will have our home by then.”
She pulled her hand away. “I will return soon.”
She snapped the reigns and headed for town.
The market was bustling with villagers. She made haste to the cooper. Another man was in front of her, placing an order for twenty cider kegs. Judith waited her turn, glad to be free of her chores for a time.
“What can I do for you, Judith?” Henry called to her when he was ready.
“I need a new bucket and two laying hens if you have them.”
“I’ve got the hens but the bucket will take a while. I have six orders to fill. Can you pick it up tomorrow evening?”
“Yes, that would be fine.”
He nodded and marked down her order. “I hear you have a little one the way.”
She smiled thinly and rested her hand over stomach. “Yes, next spring.”
“Congratulations.”
“Thank you.”
He only asked payment for the chickens and gave her the bucket for free as a celebratory gift on her expectancy.
When she stepped out of the cooper’s, she paused in the doorway as a black carriage barreled past her. She held her breath as it halted before the smith shop. Could it be the baron?
A scrawny man dressed in dark green climbed out of the carriage and hurried into the shop.
She carried the hen’s cages to her cart and secured them in the back. She cast one last glance at the carriage with a heavy heart.
His warm hands, soft lips, and dark eyes carried her off to sleep each night. Her love for him was as real as his child that was growing in her womb.
Just as she was about to snap the reigns, a figure in a black cloak came out of the weapon shop. His back was to her, but she could never mistake his height or his posture. Her eyes watered as Baron Blacwin crossed in front of her, heading toward the armor shop across the road.
“Baron!” she called, nearly falling as she climbed out of the cart.
He did not hear her.
Her feet, clumsy with excitement, carried her toward the armor shop.
“Baron Blacwin!” she shouted in a last attempt.
The baron looked over expectantly with his hand on the door. His features hardened and he stared at her with scrutiny. “Judith.”
She stood a good pace from him, unsure if she should approach.
“Baron Blacwin,” she said with a curtsey.
He approached her and she lowered her gaze.
“How do you fare?” he asked.
“I have seen happier days. And you?”
“I, too, have been better.”
She looked up at him again and his face blurred in her tears. “I was hoping you had forgiven me for my wrongs against you. I will never forgive myself. I am still so very sorry.”
“Are you?”
“Yes, more than ever. I take it no one has captured your heart yet?”
“No one will captivate me like ‘Lora Noire’
.
” His voice dripped with sarcasm. “Though, as you know, she is dead, or never existed at all.”
“She does exist and her heart is unchanged,” she assured him.
“She belongs to another,” he reminded her.
“Not her heart.”
His eyes turned cold. “Hearts are weak and cannot be trusted. A good harvest to you, Judith Timbolt.” He tipped his black hat to her and disappeared within the shop.
She bowed her head and walked back to the cart. It took all of her will to fight the tears building in her eyes. Would he ever find it in his heart to forgive her? Did it even matter?
***
Judith spent the next day making apple butter while her husband and father-in-law chopped a winter’s worth of wood.
The smell of the roasting quail that Garreth had caught that morning caused her stomach to groan irritably. The pregnancy had been kind to her, besides giving her the appetite of a ravenous wolf.
When it came time for supper, she had only finished but three bites before she was dismissed from the table. She had forgotten to retrieve the bucket from town. Her mother-in-law demanded she go fetch it.
Judith wearily walked to town, trying to ignore the emptiness gnawing in her stomach. To get her mind off her hunger pangs, she imagined what the child inside of her would become. Would he have the baron’s dark eyes? His lips? His disposition? If only she could live with the baron and raise her children in the comfort she never knew, far away from the cold thatch house and Timbolt family.
When she reached town, most of the vendors were packing up their goods for the evening. Her heart sank when she saw that the bread merchant had left. She had hoped to beg for a stale loaf. Sighing, she continued to the cooper.
When she arrived, her bucket, smelling of fresh cedar, was waiting for her on the counter. She took it, thanked the cooper, and set back out onto the road.
Her stomach rumbled and she prayed there would be supper left at home when she returned.
The market square was empty besides two children chasing each other.
A merchant carrying a basket of apple passed before her. She could almost taste how sweet they were.
“Excuse me. Could I please make a purchase?” she asked, her mouth watering.
The man turned and looked her over with scrutiny. “How much ya got?”
“Three shillings.” She grabbed at her pocket for the coins.
The sound of a horses hooves charging through the square drowned out the man’s reply. A scream caught in her throat and she covered her head as a horse reared up behind her. The fruit merchant nearly dropped his basket.
She turned to see who tried to trample her, and looked into the eyes of the baron, seated on his snorting black steed. He tossed a satchel of shillings on the fruit-seller’s basket.
“That should cover the cost of the basket.”
Judith was speechless.
The merchant set the basket down beside her and took the coin.
“Thank you, my kind and gracious baron!” He backed away from them and hurried down the road.
She looked back to the baron, and he tipped his head. “Judith.”
“That was overly generous of you.”
“You looked hungry, and he was about to rob you of all you had.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I was picking up my crossbow; it needed repairs.”
“I see.” She took an apple from the basket and rubbed it clean with her cloak. “I have no need for this whole basket of apples.”
“Share it with your family.”
“You are too generous. How could I ever repay you?”
“Might I have a moment alone with you?”
The apple that she was about to enjoy paused before her lips. “A moment alone?”